


Jim Kirk's Guide to the Universe

by writeonclara



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Humor, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeonclara/pseuds/writeonclara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Jim Kirk were to write a guide about life, the universe, and everything, his introduction would go something like this:</p>
<p>  <i>Serious things happen in life, but if you take everything so seriously, what’s the point of living?</i></p>
<p>Or: In which bar owner Jim Kirk discovers aliens really <i>do</i> exist when one decides to blow up Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Jim Kirk漫遊宇宙指南](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5591935) by [tardis67](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardis67/pseuds/tardis67), [writeonclara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeonclara/pseuds/writeonclara)



> Now translated in Chinese by [tardis67](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tardis67/pseuds/tardis67) in the related works or [here](http://www.movietvslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=189336&page=1&extra=#pid3776993), at the Chinese Slash Forum. Thank you, [tardis67](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tardis67/pseuds/tardis67), for all your hard work!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not necessary to have read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to understand what's going on in this fic, though if you haven't read it, pick it up sometime!

If Jim Kirk were to write a guide about life, the universe, and everything, his introduction would go something like this:

_Serious things happen in life, but if you take everything so seriously, what’s the point of living?_

There were several of these serious events that led Jim to this conclusion, but three in particular really defined Jim Kirk as a whole:

George Kirk died. Ten seconds later, Jim Kirk was born.

Winona Kirk married Frank.

These specific occasions led Jim down a path that involved far too much alcohol, double majors in Astrophysics and Mathematics, a string of broken hearts (some of which were his), and into a bar dubbed _The Cat’s Cradle_ a mile from Mission District in San Francisco. 

It wasn’t an overtly bad life, just not one that Jim would have chosen for himself. He didn’t have anything against _The Cat’s Cradle_ , in fact, he viewed the bar with the same sort of proprietorship he did with anything he worked hard for, it just wasn’t ever quite enough.

But it was the only life he was aware of, so there wasn’t much he could do about it.

At ten o'clock one Thursday morning twenty-five years into this life, James Tiberius Kirk woke up in a foul mood. He rolled out of bed, tripped over an untied shoelace on one of the boots he forgot to take off, careened into a wall, cursed at said wall, saw a mind-bogglingly large drill out his small window, decided it was a weather balloon, and stomped off to the bathroom to drink a gallon of tap and brush the decaying dust bunnies out of his mouth.

“Eviction,” he gurgled into the stream of water.

Jim grin-grimaced at the mirror. All of his teeth were accounted for, though he did have a pretty spectacular shiner. He tried a suave look. His reflection didn’t look impressed. Okay. Brush teeth.

Something was tickling the back of his mind, trying to push its way up to the front. Money. Rent? Something about - nope. Nothing. He critically examined the rumpled shirt and jeans he had slept in the night before, then shrugged and wandered into his kitchen to stare uncomfortably at his coffee maker.

It was a Thursday. He did not normally drink on Thursdays, since _The Cat’s Cradle_ was pretty hoppin’ on Fridays. It was especially unnatural for him to drink on the job, yet he clearly remembered accepting the numerous beers bought for him by the regulars. He had been mad about something, which partially explained the black eye. Even in his own bar, Jim Kirk got in brawls.

“Eviction,” he said.

Twenty seconds later, he was at the door of his bar, bodily holding it shut against his annoyed landlord and three burly security officers. An embarrassed looking couple stood awkwardly behind them.

“You can’t have her!” 

“Jim,” Mr. Komack said, reasonably, and discreetly waved at the three security men to open the door. “It’s been three months since you’ve paid rent. Don’t take this personally, but get out. Mr. and Mrs. Smith would like to move in today.”

“I did pay the rent!” Jim grunted, digging his heels in. He slid with the door as the security guards pushed it open. “How is it my fault that you idiots changed PO boxes without telling your tenants?!”

“Rent is due no later than the 4th of every month - “

“It’s not my fault you didn’t leave a forwarding address! What kind of moronic - “

“If you actually did pay the rent,” Mr. Komack interrupted, raising his voice over Jim’s tirade, “then we will happily let you move back in.”

“But you just said ‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith would like to move in today’!” Jim howled, waving his hands at the blushing couple.

Mr. Komack visibly deflated. “Ah, yes.”

“What do you mean, ‘ah yes’?!”

“Just that. Ah, yes. About that.”

Jim waited patiently for what _that_ was actually about. There was a bit of a lull. Mr. Komack coughed discreetly into his hand. The couple huddled in a corner to conduct a whispered debate. The three security guards brought out a deck of cards. Jim glared.

They were all so caught up in what they were individually doing that none of them noticed a tall someone walk in.

It would greatly interest Jim to know that one of his closest friends was actually not _entirely_ human. He did actually have a human mother, but his father originated from a small planet circling the dwarf star 40 Eridani A. Consequently, Spock was only half-human, the other half indisputably originating from the planet Vulcan. 

Twelve years ago he had come to Earth in a mistaken attempt at better understanding his mother’s culture. Thankfully, humans were mostly Vulcanoid in appearance. He had adequately managed to “blend in” with Earth’s inhabitants, claiming to be a freelance writer, which was believable. In fact, the only things that were conspicuously _not_ human about him were his ears and that he bled green. He made it a point not to bleed around people, but there wasn’t much he could do about the ears. These he covered with a slew of different baseball caps, giving the impression that he followed every baseball, football, and hockey team in America.

To date, this had been his only really big gaff in acting human.

Twelve years later, he was still stuck on this overly emotional, excessive, illogical planet without any way of getting home.

That is, until today.

“Jim.”

Jim whirled away from the bar. “Spock! Hello, how are you? Always good to see you.”

Spock nodded in response. “Jim. We need to talk.”

“Can’t it wait? I’ve got guests.” Jim smiled tightly and indicated his ‘guests’ with a wave. They waved back.

“It cannot.”

“Seriously, Spock. I’m trying not to get evicted here.”

Spock knew that, in the grand scheme of things, it really didn’t matter if Jim was evicted or not. He also knew that humans were illogically attached to things like their places of rest. With a minute sigh completely unnoticed by his current company, he turned to Mr. Komack. Although all Vulcans had some form of telepathic capabilities, Spock was especially gifted. He did not bother to use any of these against Mr. Komack. Instead, he just looked at him.

It is a common misconception across the galaxy that Vulcans are incapable of emotions. They are actually quite good at the whole “feelings” business; rather, they just prefer to repress the hell out of them. At that moment, Spock was feeling quite strongly that Mr. Komack needed to _go away_. Mr. Komack was made of stern stuff, but even he wilted in the face of an annoyed Vulcan.

“You require Jim to vacate the premises by today, correct?”

“Ah, yes. That’s correct.”

“You will accept that it takes approximately twenty-three hours and fifty-six minutes for the Earth to make one entire rotation on its axis, thus completing one Earth day.”

Mr. Komack was not used to Spock’s particular brand of logic, but he couldn’t see any fault to it. He nodded once.

“Then I submit that you can spare Jim for ten Earth minutes before you proceed with his removal.”

Although Mr. Komack had the strong suspicion he was being played, he again could not find any fault with Spock’s logic. He glanced back at the smirking security guards and the increasingly uncomfortable couple.

“Well, I - “ 

Spock stared at him.

“That is - “

Spock did not need to blink as often as the average human, since he was not human. Well, not all the way, and the bit of him that _was_ human was by no means _average_.

“Fine,” Mr. Komack grunted. “But only ten minutes!”

“I thank you,” said Spock. “Perhaps you would be amenable to an alcoholic beverage of your choice? Jim.”

Numbly, Jim poured out several beers, including one for himself.

“It would be wise for you to consume two additional drinks, Jim,” Spock advised. “Myself, I would have a chocolate milk, if you will.”

Having been friends with Spock for going on six years, Jim was no longer surprised by absurd requests like these. He just chalked it up as one of Spock’s many endearing quirks. Consequently, _The Cat’s Cradle_ was the only bar in San Francisco that carried chocolate milk. He pushed the glass to Spock, who took a long pull from it as if it were beer.

“What did you need to talk to me about?”

Spock dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, pushing his glass forward for a refill. “Jim, would you consider me a trustworthy individual?”

“What sort of question is that?”

“It is vitally important that you answer.”

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend.”

“I am gratified to hear that. I also hold you in high esteem.”

Jim’s heart did a funny little leap in his chest. If he didn’t know better, he would think that Spock was _confessing_ to him. After all of these years--

“I am not human.”

Jim blinked. Well, he had gotten a confession alright, just not the one he had been hoping for.

“Um, Spock?”

“My apologies; that is not accurate. I thought to employ my prior statement as a device to expedite my explanation, as we only have approximately eight minutes and twenty-three seconds left. Rather, only half of my genetic makeup is human. My other half is Vulcan.”

Jim took a long drink from his beer to save himself from having to answer _that_. It was sad, really. Spock normally made so much sense. There’s a fine line between genius and insanity, he supposed.

“You don’t look like a bird of prey,” Jim joked weakly, when Spock didn’t offer up anymore details.

“You mistake me. I said Vulcan, not falcon.”

“Volkswagen?”

“Nor am I a German automaker.”

“Look, Spock. You can’t honestly expect me to believe that you’re not entirely human and half-Vulcan or whatever. It’s too much for me to take in this early on a Thursday. What exactly is a Vulcan, anyway?”

“Vulcans are the bipedal inhabitants of a small planet circling the dwarf star Erandi in the Alpha quadrant,” said Spock, as if he were reciting from an encyclopedia. “Vulcan itself is an arid planet with temperatures reaching up to, but generally not over, 65 degrees Celsius. We live by the teachings of logician Surak, denouncing emotion as an interference to reason.”

“Explains a lot,” Jim muttered, then held up his hand to stop Spock’s continued textbook definition of Vulcan. He scowled at the others in the bar. The others jumped guiltily and went back to pretending to do what they had been doing before Spock claimed to be an alien. “You’re an alien?”

Spock nodded.

Jim looked back at the others, now feeling generous enough to share his disbelief. Mr. Komack was very busy sending fake texts to his own phone number. The three security guards hunched further over their game of Go Fish. The couple huddled in the corner turned their backs to him.

“Jim,” said Spock, with a note of urgency. “The Earth is about to be destroyed.”

This was too much. Jim laughed and shook his head, pouring himself another beer. “You nearly had me there, Spock. I might have been able to swallow the whole alien thing since, no offense, there’s always been something different about you, but you overdid it with the whole Earth’s destruction bit. Nice try, though. I’m not sure where this strange sense of humor is coming from, but I can always use a laugh, all things considered.” He ended this with a burning glare at Mr. Komack.

Spock indulged in a small show of annoyance by closing his eyes. Then he took off his cap. It was the first time Spock removed his hat amongst humans in the twelve years he had been on Earth. Although his hair was disreputably long for a Vulcan, the tips of his ears still peeked out.

Predictably, Jim gaped. 

“If you require further evidence, my blood is green, though I would prefer not to demonstrate as it would require injuring myself.”

Jim said nothing. Spock reached for the knife that Jim used cut lemons.

“Spock?” Jim asked, uncertainly. Ah, there it was.

Spock tossed his 66er’s cap on the counter, ignoring Mr. Komack, who had jerked out of his seat so quickly that he knocked the stool over. He leaned over the counter.

“Come with me.”

“Um,” said Jim. He glanced at Mr. Komack. “I guess you can have the place.” He turned back to Spock. “Let me just grab a couple of things, yeah?”

When Jim was thirteen, he went on a camping trip with his class, chaperoned by three teachers. One of these teachers was Mr. Kodos. Jim did not often like to think of this camping trip, but it did provoke in him basic survival instincts and a tendency to hoard food. From his apartment above the bar, he grabbed his earthquake pack, his leather jacket, and the scrappy cat he sometimes fed. The cat had really just been looking for a bit of kibble, but it didn’t protest the manhandling too much.

Jim hurried past the three security guards, the couple, and Mr. Komack without looking up. A very large part of him was certain he was falling hard for some sort of cosmic joke - the kind the universe liked to play on him on a regular basis - and he chose to preserve his dignity by not acknowledging all of the incredulous stares. Instead, he followed Spock out the bar and promptly tripped over nothing at all.

“What the hell is that!” Jim yelped from the pavement, hand shooting out to point at the huge drill about a mile in the distance.

“The Earth is about to be destroyed,” Spock said, reasonably.

Several miles above the Earth sat a gleaming black ship that had all the appearances of a lovechild from an illicit affair between a Swiss army knife and a massive squid. This ship connected itself to the Earth by drilling away Mission District. 

Over a hundred years in the future, one man had failed to save the planet Romulus. The aftermath of this planet’s destruction caused a small tear in this universe, allowing a handful of Romulan survivors to tumble back in time. In response, these survivors promptly flew to Earth and stuck a drill in it.

“Citizens of Earth,” a voice from the Swiss army squid said. “It is my pleasure to inform you that the destruction of your worthless little planet will commence in roughly two minutes.”

“One minutes, forty-three seconds,” Spock corrected.

“I assure you, there is nothing you can do to prevent this, so you might as well stop complaining about it,” the voice continued soothingly. There was a pause in transmission, as if the madman was listening to something. As a matter of fact, around the world thousands radio waves had transmitted essentially the same question into the sky, which were then picked up by the ship:

But why?

“Why? _Why?_ The better question is _who_. James Tiberius Kirk - “

Of course. Of _course_ it had to be him.

A trickle of ice made its way down Jim’s spine and spread out through his veins. This was because, even though all humans are more or less psi-null (no matter what some might try to tell you), the sudden and concentrated hatred of seven billion people was compelling.

Meanwhile, in a small town in Iowa, one man sprung up from his couch, sloshing beer all over his front. 

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” Frank shouted.

Jim shuddered and tried to will himself into the ground. The only consolation he had was that the ground probably _would_ swallow him whole in more or less a minute.

“James Tiberius Kirk, for captaining the _USS Enterprise_ , and for your association with S’chn T’gai Spock - “

Jim managed to crawl out from under the weight of crushing despair to share a confused look with Spock. Rather, Jim looked confused and Spock lifted an eyebrow, which could have had a multitude of meanings. Perhaps this madman meant a _different_ James Tiberius Kirk and S’chn T’gai Spock.

“JIM!” Mr. Komack howled, racing out of the bar to enact one final piece of revenge against the man who had single-handedly brought on the destruction of the Earth.

“James Tiberius Kirk - this is for you. Release the red matter!”

The large drill withdrew from the planet.

The Earth collapsed into itself.

The Romulan ship _Narada_ drifted away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spock and Jim hitchhike and make a new friend.

On the ship _Narada_ , Romulan miner Nero leaned back in his seat and steepled his fingers. The viewing screen displayed an empty space where Earth had once been. He felt - disappointed. The sense of vindication was hardly there at all. Jim Kirk was dead, but what, really, did that solve? Fury was still bubbling beneath his skin, demanding vengeance.

He spun his chair around. What he really needed to do was blow up more planets, and he knew exactly which one should be next.

“Plot our course to Vulcan.”

*

Here is what Jim Kirk’s guide would say about alien life.

_There is something like one hundred to four hundred billion planets in_ just _the Milky Way Galaxy._

_That number is somewhat hard to comprehend, so to break it down, think about it this way: if we divvied up the planets amongst the seven billion humans on Earth, each person would get between fourteen to fifty-seven planets to call their own._

_In other words, of course there’s life out there. They’re probably just not that interested in us._

On that particular Thursday afternoon, after landing hard on some strange, circular platforms in the middle of a brightly lit room, with a scrappy cat that was rapidly becoming less and less amused, a close friend who turned out to be an alien, and a fourth, human-looking character who was sort of gaping at the three of them, Jim decided to amend his entry.

 _When they_ are _interested in you, it really,_ really _sucks._

“I didna think that’d do anything,” the fourth humanoid muttered to himself.

Spock, who had been standing before they were transported, recovered first. “We must hide.”

“Hide?” repeated Jim. There was a small possibility he was going into shock. A part of him was half-convinced this was the afterlife. Hadn’t they just been outside a minute ago...?

“Considering that the owner of this ship has just destroyed the Earth, it is the most logical course of action.”

“Oh yes, of course.” So they were on a ship. Jim turned his head to look at the man, not yet ready to stand up. “Are you a human or an alien?”

“Human.”

“Just checking. You never know these days.”

The human understood completely.

“ _Jim_.”

“All right, all right.” Jim pushed himself up. The cat, heartily disapproving of being hauled around like a sack of rice, clambered up onto Jim’s shoulder.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll tag along,” the human said, glancing nervously behind him. Spock did mind, but before he could protest, Jim was saying, “Sure, of course, the more the merrier.”

They managed to cram themselves in what appeared to be a supply closet (because, Jim thought, of course supply closets would be universal) just outside the room they’d fallen into.

“Here,” Spock said quietly, fishing out what appeared to be two metal Acura logos. “Pin this to your shirt.”

“Why?”

“I have developed a variation of the Federation’s Universal Translator to convert foreign languages into American English.”

“Oh. Why?”

“In the twelve years I’ve been on Earth, I found myself with an excess amount of time.”

Jim didn’t need a Universal Translator to understand _that._ “I had a lot of time on my hands and was bored out of my skull.” He pinned the Acura symbol to his shirt and turned to the man.

“How did you get here?” Jim quietly asked, because it was polite.

In spite of, well, everything, the still unnamed man beamed at Jim. “I made this device, y’know? I got it to dematerialize matter and then rematerialize it in a completely different location. Tested it on a spoon, a book, and then finally some plants. I tried it on a beagle,” the man’s smile dimmed slightly, before he rallied again. “Anyway, when the madman started kindly informed us he was going to destroy Earth, I decided t’try it on meself, in spite of what happened to the dog. What else did I have to lose?” The man shrugged. “And here I am. Don’t really know where I am, to be honest, but wherever it is, I am most certainly here.”

“Fascinating,” Spock whispered. “I had concluded that humans were years away from teleportation, but you managed to invent it yourself. Were you also responsible for beaming us up?”

“I think so,” said the man. “One’a the panels was blinkin’, so I thought I’d push a button.”

“And what, it just found us?” Jim asked, in disbelief.

“Before the Earth was destroyed, I transmitted our coordinates. The transporter locked onto my communicator,” Spock explained. “It was a fortunate coincidence that this human was around to beam us up. You have our thanks.”

“Fortunate coincidence,” Jim murmured to himself. "So you hitchhiked."

"As we have obtained a free ride from a passing ship, the term 'hitchhiking' is essentially accurate. However, since our conveyer is neither aware nor likely to react positively to our presence, I would not claim the term is precisely correct."

“Okay. What now?”

The question seemed to stump Spock. Even in the dim lighting, Jim could see him rapidly think up plans and just as quickly dismiss them. This was a terrible sign.

“Um,” the man said.

“They must have some sort of escape pod or something,” suggested Jim, a little desperately.

“The statistical probability of us successfully stealing an escape pod and out-maneuvering a ship of this magnitude is approximately one point eight three percent,” said Spock, in what Jim considered a pessimistic voice. 

“That bad, huh?” asked Jim, weakly.

“It is, as you say, that bad.”

“Ah,” said the man. Jim and Spock turned to him. 

“I think I might have an idea,” said the man.

The man, who was actually named Montgomery Scott (“Scotty, if you will”), had an equation. He scrambled through the shelf above his head until he somehow managed to come up with what looked like an everyday pen. Jim thought maybe he could come to terms with the Earth being gone if the universe didn’t keep spitting out objects that were so damn familiar.

“See, I thought, what good is this device I created if it can’t send me places I really want’a go? I was in Alaska at the time, terrible place, never go there--not that you can, now--um--anyway, I was in Alaska, an’ really woulda preferred t’be back in Scotland. So I worked out this equation.” He scribbled out a long series of numbers, then looked at Jim expectantly. Jim looked back. Scotty looked at Spock.

“Incredible,” Spock breathed. Something ugly lurched in Jim’s stomach. “And you’ve tested this?”

“Well, no. Except that time with the beagle. And just now, I guess.” He shrugged. “Seemed to work okay.”

“Transwarp theory posits that an object can be beamed from one star system to another, or onto another object traveling at warp speed. It has never been proven.” Spocks eyes crinkled at the corners, which from him amounted to a wild, maniacal grin. “Until now.”

*

While Jim Kirk et al plotted their escape from the _Narada_ , a slim woman with a tangle of red hair spun around in the command chair on Starfleet's flagship _Enterprise_. Although it was impossible to tell from her smile, she was feeling a little nervous.

Though this woman technically couldn’t be considered a cadet anymore, she still hacked into her old Starfleet account on a regular basis to track the reports on her. About an hour ago, she had received an message. This message was bold, red, and shouted at the beginning of the subject line that it was vitally important she did not ignore it. 

She ignored it. It shouted at her. She ignored it. It shouted at her. Finally, she gave in and opened it.

She closed it again.

“Hey, Uhura?”

“Yeah, Gaila?”

“What planet did you guys come from again?”

“Earth.” Uhura turned in her chair to face Gaila. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” Gaila chewed on her lower lip. She said, “Hey, Uhura?”

“Yes, Gaila.”

“Do you guys miss the Earth?”

Uhura frowned, completely unused to this doubtful Gaila. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Look, Gaila, there’s a reason why we all decided to go with you. I don’t think it was a decision any of us took lightly.”

This seemed to be the right thing to say, because Gaila’s downcast face lit up again. “Oh, good! Hey, are you hungry? Let’s go grab something, yeah?” She bounced out of the command chair, pausing only to delete from her pad the message with the subject line: URGENT! SOL III HAS BEEN DESTROYED

What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, right?

*

"Okay, so what now?" 

"We return to the transporter platform and beam off the ship."

"Into the middle of nowhere?"

"Onto a different ship."

"Because that worked out so well for us the first time."

“Yes,” said Spock, since it had.

“Fine.”

Spock estimated that there was a twenty-three point eight six percent chance their escape would go as planned. There was, of course, several risks involved in transporting onto an unknown vessel, chief being the ‘unknown’ aspect. Then there was the additional risk that whatever ship they lock onto would have a deflector shield activated. He surmised that if their plan succeeded, they would very likely end up on a highly disreputable ship. He did not voice these concerns, however, since it was still the plan with the highest statistical probability that they would come out of this alive.

The door to their supply closet swished open.

A Romulan miner blinked at them.

Jim, who excelled at leaping before thinking, leaped onto the miner.

“Run!” he yelped, as the Romulan clawed at him over his shoulder.

Scotty ran. The cat ran. Spock pinched the Romulan’s neck.

“Um,” said Jim, as the Romulan suddenly collapsed in a limp heap beneath him. “Did you kill him?”

“He is merely incapacitated.”

“Okay. That’s--really handy actually. You should teach me that if we ever get out of this alive.”

A blur zoomed past them, coming from the direction of the transporter room. “Not that way!” the blur shouted in Scotty’s voice. 

Jim and Spock looked after him. Then they looked the other way. Three very angry, very large Romulans with very wicked looking guns shouted at them. They shared one final glance with each other, then pelted after Scotty and the cat.

“Spock!” Jim yelped, as red lights flickered around them and a wailing alarm started up. “Any other brilliant plans would be _really appreciated_ about now!”

“Yes,” said Spock. With an additional burst of speed, he caught up with Scotty and yanked him in a different direction. Jim followed, thinking that he really ought to have left that extra canteen of water out of his increasingly heavy earthquake pack, thinking that his life really did suck sometimes, and then swooping down to scoop up the cat. The cat was really, really beginning to regret associating itself with Jim Kirk.

“Not that I’m complaining if you really have thought up a brilliant plan in the two seconds since I asked,” Jim gasped, shifting his bag, “but where are we going?”

“A ship this class will have a cargo bay in the secondary hull,” explained Spock calmly, as if they were just taking a stroll in Golden Gate Park. 

“What are we going to do, hide in a crate and hope they send us off somewhere safe?”

It annoyed Jim that, despite the fact they were running for their lives on a ship captained by a man who had just _blown up a whole planet_ , Spock still had the wherewithal shoot him a disdainful look. “There is a sixty-four point eight percent the cargo bay will have a transporter. Although a ship of this magnitude will have several transporter rooms, it is more efficient for us to head towards the one easiest to locate.”

“Oh,” said Jim.

“Not t’be a wet blanket,” Scotty wheezed, “but isn’t there a chance that someone’s goin’ ta be in the cargo bay? Y’know, workers or somethin’?”

Spock said nothing, which meant that there was a very high chance that someone was, indeed, going to be in the cargo bay. He snagged Jim and yanked him around a corner, pushing him up against the wall.

“Now’s not the time!” Jim hissed. Spock gave him a strange look. Several beats later, the three Romulans thundered down the hall they had just been in, passing the corner Spock had pressed him and, on further inspection, Scotty, against. Oh. Jim refused to blush.

“This way,” Spock whispered, after verifying they were in the clear. They had to hide three more times before they darted into what appeared to be an elevator but moved much, much faster. Jim and Scotty pressed themselves against the wall of the lift, eyes popping. Spock folded his hands behind his back and proved that, even in life or death situations, elevator silence was still awkward.

Jim half expected an army of aliens waiting for them at the entrance of the elevator, but the secondary hull was more or less empty. They scurried behind a large stack of crates, keeping out of sight from the few workers who had not joined in the hunt for their hides.

“The transporter is there,” Spock whispered, nodding towards a platform. It looked like the transporter they had landed on earlier, if the transporter hit the gym five days a week. It was also smack dab in the middle of the bay, clear for all to see.

“What now?” asked Scotty.

“I see three workers but no weapons,” Jim said. “We should probably take them out before we use the transportation thingy.”

“Although I would not have used those precise words, I concur,” said Spock.

“Okay. I’ll take the guy to the left. Spock, you got the guy to the right. Scotty, you think you can handle that dude over there?”

“Um,” said Scotty.

Jim chose to take that as an affirmative. “All right. Go!”

Jim’s hand-to-hand fighting style consisted of whatever he managed to pick up in bar brawls. Suffice to say, if he hadn't had the element of surprise, the outcome of the fight would have been completely different.

He punched the Romulan in the head. The Romulan roared. He punched him in the head again. The Romulan, thoroughly sick of being punched in the head, punched Jim back. Jim flew into a crate.

“Your mother was a hagfish!” Jim shouted from inside the crate.

The Romulan didn’t know what a hagfish was, but correctly interpreted this as an insult and smashed open the crate. Jim bashed him over the head with a canteen.

Jim took a moment to rub his jaw and feel extremely smug about winning a fight against an alien before turning to see if Spock needed any help.

Spock did not need any help. He had managed to take out his Romulan in seventeen point five seconds and was now engaged in hand-to-hand combat with Scotty’s Romulan. There was something brutally logical about his style. His attacks were quick and precise, each blow calculated for maximum efficiency. 

Jim leaned against one of the crates, impressed. In all of the years Jim knew Spock, Spock had always preached pacifism (usually directly after rescuing Jim from a fight that Jim may or may not have initiated). Apparently, his friend had hidden depths. Jim counted ten strikes before the Romulan, who contained easily twice Spock’s mass in muscle, crumpled to a heap.

“Nicely done!” Jim cheered. “Ah, where’s Scotty?”

“M’here,” Scotty’s muffled voice said from behind a crate. Jim peered around it at him. He was holding his nose, looking thoroughly irritated. The cat had wisely decided that he was the safest human to hang about and was sitting on his lap. “I want you to know, I’m really rethinking my decision not t’get blown up.”

“Up you go,” said Jim, helping him up. “All right boss, what next?”

“Come,” Spock said, hurrying to the cargo transporter. Jim helped Scotty onto the platform, hopping up after him as Spock input the equation into the transporter.

“So, uh, where do you think we're going to materialize?” Jim asked conversationally, as Spock pulled himself onto the platform in one fluid motion. Jim was suddenly plagued with doubt.

“We will know shortly,” said Spock, just as the elevator to the cargo bay opened. "Energize.”

“Wait, wait," Jim shouted at the wave of angry Romulans that poured out of the elevator. They waited. "Teleportation means that we _dematerialize?!_ ” 

They dematerialized.

*

“Captain Nero. The intruders have escaped, but the coordinates are still in the cargo bay’s transporter. Should we follow?”

Nero pressed his fingers to his lips thoughtfully. Two humans and a Vulcan. It was likely that they had hitched a ride on the _Narada_ when the Earth was destroyed.

There were only two Vulcans Nero knew of who would bother going to that backwater little planet. Nero would bet good money he knew which one it was.

“No,” said Nero. “Maintain course. I think we will meet them again, very soon.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are reunions.

Teleportation was actually not as terrible as it sounded. Jim didn’t even feel his atoms being pulled apart from each other, nor was he conscious of being transmitted through light years of space.

Rematerializing, however, had its downsides. It wasn’t really the ‘how’ that bothered him, but the ‘where.’ The ‘how’ didn’t matter over much. Like dematerialization, rematerializing felt a whole lot like nothing at all. Overall, it wasn’t an unpleasant mode of transportation. Sure, if he thought about it - _really_ thought about the mechanics of it - for longer than twenty seconds, he ended up gibbering, but the simple solution to that problem was to just not think about it. 

_Where_ Jim Kirk’s atoms kept putting themselves back together that was rapidly becoming a problem.

Jim Kirk rematerialized on another ship. He was expecting this, so had no issue with it. What he did have an issue with were the two figures that leaped out of their seats at their sudden appearance.

“Wow-ee!” one of the figures yelped. “Spock - I mean, wow, is that really you?”

“Indeed,” said Spock, way too cool for the situation. He paused for a long second, ingesting this new information, calculating the odds of probability, and then filing it under the often used tab ‘Too Improbable to be Logical’ in his mental catalog. 

“I confess that I had not anticipated this outcome,” he admitted. “Jim, this is my cousin-by-marriage - ”

“We’ve met,” Jim interrupted, coldly.

Spock frowned at him. He was beginning to question his logic in rescuing this illogical human. “You have not.” 

“I have,” Jim insisted, slouching against the door. The cat protested a little at this new position, since Jim very nearly squashed his tail, before settling down again. “Three years ago. _The Cat’s Cradle_? Remember, Gaila?”

Spock snapped an incredulous look at him. That is, both of his eyebrows went up.

“Um.” Gaila tapped her chin, cocking her head to the side and considering him.

"You slept with me, told me you loved me, and then stole my best friend _and_ the girl I was trying to get off with," Jim hissed.

Gaila looked startled. "Oh, hey. About that."

Jim crossed his arms, waiting for her to finish. Since that was the extent of her argument, he waited in vain.

“Did you fail to notice the green skin?” Spock asked. To everyone else, he merely sounded dry. To Jim’s, he was voice oozed with venom.

“That was what made the argument so convincing,” said the other figure who had leaped out of her seat, and who just so happened to also be the girl Jim had tried to get off with three years ago, because yeah, _this was his life_. She smiled winningly at Spock. “Nyota Uhura. You can call me Nyota.”

Of course he could. Jim had talked to her for an hour, and she flat out refused to tell _him_ her name.

Spock nodded to her, and Jim was temporarily grateful for the distraction from his idiotic oversight from three years ago, even if it was caused by one old object of his affections flirting with another. He played with the cuffs of his jacket in an attempt to look busy. Then he played with the end of the cat’s tail. Spock turned to him expectantly.

“I was drunk. She told me it was a congenital disease,” Jim muttered, deflating. “It seemed rude to pry.” 

“Of course it did,” said Spock, scathingly. Jim winced slightly. Nothing like Spock’s disapproval to kill a guy’s ego. He wondered if this was a Vulcan thing or a Spock thing.

“I’m Scotty,” Scotty said cheerily, clearly in an attempt to diffuse the suddenly tense atmosphere. He looked back and forth between the others, then promptly decided he was going to like this ship. _Much_ better than Alaska.

“Hi, Scotty!” said Gaila, brightly.

Spock had not yet recovered from being surprised and was clearly not happy about it. Both of his eyebrows were very firm in their disapproval. “Gaila, I was on Earth for approximately twelve years and four days. I am struggling to comprehend why you failed to pick me up.”

“Sorry, Spock,” Gaila said with a shrug. “I was just passing through, you know?”

“And yet you managed to gather another human on your way?” asked Spock, witheringly.

It was probably physically impossible to offend Gaila. “Four. Sulu and Chekov are flying the ship and McCoy’s in the med bay.”

Spock closed his eyes and chose to just focus on one of the many atrocities in that sentence. “And how did you come to possess such a ship?”

Gaila grinned. “I stole it, of course.”

The silent disapproval from Spock was the equivalent to a shout of disbelief. ‘You _stole_ Starfleet’s flagship _Enterprise_?’ his eyebrows seemed to say in disbelief.

“Wait, wait,” Jim interrupted before they could continue down this topic, since it was showing signs of being a lengthy one. He’d been successfully following their conversation, up to one point where he go snagged. “Did you just say McCoy?”

*

Before Spock, there was Leonard McCoy, a regular at _The Cat's Cradle_ who consistently bemoaned the existence of the universe. He had good reason. After his disastrous end with Jocelyn that concluded with the loss of his private practice, all he had left to his name were his bones and some skin to carry them around in. Twice a week, he took these bones to a small bar in San Francisco.

"It was a bad idea," Bones would tell Jim, over a pint of whiskey.

"What was?"

"Evolving."

Jim liked Bones a lot, although the entirety of their short friendship was built on Jim enabling Bones’ alcoholism.

"Bones!"

Leonard McCoy jumped and hid the bottle of slightly illegal alcohol behind his back. This was somewhat pointless, as he had just been in the process of taking a long swig from the bottle, so his cheeks were bulging with evidence of drink due to his sudden inability to swallow. There was only one person who called him Bones, and as far as McCoy knew, he was safely tucked away in a small bar in San Francisco.

Except, no. Standing at the entrance of his sickbay, with a large bag slung on one shoulder and, of all things, a cat on the other, and a huge grin all over his smug face, was Jim Kirk.

“Jim?!” McCoy, thankfully, managed not to spit his alcohol everywhere.

Jim narrowed his eyes at McCoys arms and correctly deduced just what Bones was doing a poor job of hiding. “Give me that.”

Wordlessly, McCoy handed him the bottle.

Forty minutes later he, Jim, and the rest of the humans on the ship were sprawled over the biobeds they had pushed together to make one huge bed.

“The Earth,” Sulu said nostalgically. He waved his glass in a wobbly salute. “Can’t say she offered me much, but - _damn_.” 

“My father - “ Chekov interrupted himself to take a long drink. “I haf - _had_ not talked to him for many years.” Sulu clutched his shoulder in a show of camaraderie.

“I can’t believe it,” Uhura said. She turned stunned eyes to Jim. “Why would anyone do something like that?”

They all looked at Jim expectantly, even Scotty, the only other human to be on Earth during its demise. Scotty hadn’t heard the madman’s reason for destroying Earth because he was too busy teleporting off the planet.

Because of Jim, apparently. “I have no idea,” said Jim, which was mostly true. He drowned his wave of agony and despair by emptying his glass. “He was completely mad.”

“I’ll drink to that,” mumbled Bones, who would drink to most anything.

“God, that sucks,” said Sulu, then immediately realized his incredible understatement. “I mean, it _really_ sucks. A lot.” 

Bones drank to that, as well.

Meanwhile, on the bridge, Gaila spun around on the captain chair. “Boy, it’s good to see you, Spock!”

“I am pleased to reacquaint with you as well.” Spock folded his hands behind his back. “We are currently heading in the direction of Vulcan. Although I understand Vulcan is unlikely to be your destination, I would request to be transported there. If this is not possible, please deliver me to the nearest outpost - ”

“Hey, hey!” Gaila said, stopping her spin. She held up her hands to halt his next words. “Of course we can go to Vulcan! It’s been forever since I’ve seen Auntie.” A knowing, almost fond smile flit across her lips. She hopped out of her chair. “You know, I think I’m going to turn in early. You have the con, or whatever captains say. Night, Spock!”

Alone on the empty bridge, Spock sat very stiffly in front of the viewscreen. Vulcans did not get nervous, and yet Spock was practically fidgeting.

A moment later, two very familiar people appeared on the viewscreen. One of them covered her mouth with both of her hands. Spock took a deep breath.

“Hello, Mother. Father.”  
*

The next morning, Uhura slithered onto the bridge and into her seat. “What I wouldn’t do for a cup of coffee,” she grumbled to McCoy, who was sprawled under her chair and not entirely certain how he got there.

“You would think that there would be one damn planet in this whole universe that could at least mimic a cup of coffee. Closest drink I found was all the way in Aurelia.”

“Morning, guys!” chirped Gaila, making both Bones and Uhura want to kill her.

“Argh,” said McCoy.

Uhura agreed with the sentiment, but she had more important matters to discuss. “Hey, Gaila.” She pulled her ponytail over her shoulder to fiddle with the end of it. “Tell me about your cousin.”

“Which cousin? I have a lot of them.”

Uhura rolled her eyes. “The one that appeared on our ship yesterday.”

“Ohhh, Spock. He’s great! Smartest guy I’ve ever met, but kind of a stick in the mud. Not a big partier, if you know what I mean.”

“If he’s as smart as you say he is, how did he end up rescuing someone like Jim? I mean, not saying I’m not glad he’s alive, but he’s not exactly brainy.”

“Jim’s brainy,” McCoy said, from under her chair. 

As if summoned, the doors to the bridge swished open, emitting what smelled like a small piece of heaven. 

Uhura spun around, gaping at Jim. Jim nodded at her over a tray with eight mugs on it. “ _Where did you get that_?”

“This?” Jim asked. “The place that looks like a cafeteria.”

“Nothing in the mess makes _coffee_.”

Jim looked down at the tray. “Looks like coffee to me.” He held out the tray, as if posing an argument. He balanced it on one hand so that he could hand one down to Bones.

Uhura excepted hers with a dubious frown. It looked a lot like coffee. It even smelled like coffee. She took a sip. Her nerves sang. “How did you - where did you - ”

“That thing in the mess, the one that looks like a tanning bed but creates food? Well, I tried to get it to give me coffee, but it would only give me water or something sludgy. So I programmed it to give me coffee.”

Uhura gaped. “But we’re on an alien spaceship!”

“Told you he was brainy,” said McCoy, sipping his coffee with his eyes closed.

Before Uhura could decide whether or not she was going to spontaneously combust or to marry Jim Kirk, the doors swished open again. Jim held out one of the only mugs that didn’t have coffee in it. Spock accepted it, turning to look out the viewscreen. For the first time in twelve years, something in him relaxed. Jim set the tray down next to Bones, taking a mug for himself.

When Jim looked back to Uhura with a smug grin, ready to brag about his skills with coffee making, he suddenly gasped. Jim could not believe it. Uhura was making googly eyes at Spock!

"Stop being greedy!" Jim hissed, startling Uhura badly. She frowned at him assessingly for a moment, then caught up. A slow smile curving her lips, and she said, "Oh, it's _on_ , Jimboy."

“I’ve known him for six years.”

“What were you waiting for - the Earth to blow up?” When Jim glared, Uhura said, “Too soon?”

Jim narrowed his eyes.

Uhura made a gesture at him that amounted to a death threat to a Deltan, but was just really rude to a human.

Jim gasped.

Uhura grinned.

It abruptly dissolved in who could make the goofiest face without being noticed by Spock. Uhura thumbed her nose up. Jim crossed his eyes. Uhura puffed out her cheeks and pulled her ears. Jim was reaching for his eyelids when the unfortunate object of their affections turned back to them. Spock was met with two identical looks that were so innocent that he was immediately suspicious.

“Where to next, then?” Jim asked, earnestly.

“We are currently on course to Vulcan. It will taken an estimated seven Earth days and ten hours to arrive.”

“To go after the Romulan who destroyed Earth, then?”

Spock’s eyebrows dropped. “Clarify.”

“Oh, well.” Jim rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little embarrassed for some reason. “The guy’s got a beef with you, right? We all know how he resolves his issues.”

Spock stared at him, a slow, horrified realization donning in those human brown eyes. He turned quickly to the viewscreen, setting his mug down on top of the console. His fingers flew over the keys.

“What are you doing?” Jim asked.

“Contacting Starfleet. We must reconvene with their fleet.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“We will not survive a confrontation with a ship of that magnitude. They must be called on to destroy it.”

“Stop being an idiot!” Jim snapped. “Maintain course to Vulcan. We can meet the madman there!”

Spock considered Jim. It had clearly been a gross oversight on his part to rescue this excessive human. After all, what was he if not the epitome of emotion?

"You goddamn elf with an overactive thyroid!"

That was just unnecessary.

“I will not let you risk my entire planet because you have self-destructive tendencies. Your father - ”

Jim experienced the uncomfortable feeling of the blood rushing out of his face all at once. His vision tunneled. “Ignoring the fact that you just used my _dead father_ to prove a fucking point, are you really prepared to take responsibility for the destruction of your entire goddamn planet? Because, trust me, it fucking sucks.”

"Stand down, Jim."

"No! I won't let you make a stupid mistake you'll spend the rest of your life regretting!"

There was a terrible silence as Jim and Spock reached a standstill. A slow, uneasy realization wriggled into Jim’s brain. No one, not even Bones, would stand by him in this argument, not when the danger was so great and the planet wasn’t his to risk. Spock’s eyes no longer looked human at all, and Jim grimaced slightly at the death cries of a close friendship.

“It is time for you to go,” Spock said, lowly, then reached forward, and suddenly all Jim knew was darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim meets more aliens that want to kill him and has a plan.

There was a tense and awkward silence on the bridge as Spock cut the transmission with Starfleet. He leaned back in the command chair, steepling his fingers together and pressing them to his lips. From the corner of his eye, he could see the mug of coffee Jim had left behind.

“Where,” said McCoy, the only person whose voice was sharp enough to cut through the oppressive silence, “did you put Jim?”

“Alfa 177.”

“Isn’t that like Hoth?” Sulu asked, a little nervously. When the majority gave him puzzled looks, he clarified, “I mean, an ice planet?”

“That is correct.”

"There are only six of us left in existence and your brilliant idea is to dump one of us on some goddamn frozen rock?!" McCoy exploded. Spock looked darkly at McCoy. Jim told him about him years ago, a close friend who had disappeared without a goodbye. Spock should have crammed McCoy into the escape pod as well.

"Alfa 177 is a Class M planet. He will be safe until we complete our mission."

Privately, Nyota gave herself a point, although she felt somewhat uncomfortable about it. It didn't seem very sporting to count your rival being abandoned on a frozen planet as a point.

There was a tense and awkward silence on the bridge.

“Hey, uh, Spock?” said Gaila, meekly. He looked at her. “You know, I think it might be better if you take over captainship.” When he still didn’t say anything, she continued in a rush. “It’s just that, I stole the _Enterprise_ for a joyride. I never actually wanted to be a captain. More into computer programming, you know.”

“I see,” said Spock.

“So, what with what’s going on with Vulcan and all, I think it would really be best if you do the big job.”

Spock nodded, once. “I assume command,” he said, formally.

Gaila released a slow breath. Now, at least, if all things went to hell, she wouldn’t be held responsible. She would never admit it out loud, since it was sort of a low down thought. Spock looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking, but did not judge her for it. She stared at him with grim determination.

“I do have one more order to give before, though,” she said, although Spock was already captain. “When this is all over, we are _going_ to pick up Jim.”

“That is my plan to begin with,” said Spock.

*

Jim groaned. His head hurt. His _neck_ hurt. He lolled his head to the left, confused. Where was he? He was - strapped into something that was moving very, very quickly. No longer on the _Enterprise_ , then. A console flashed at him urgently, but Jim found that he was unable to address its concerns, since he was sort of trapped by his earthquake pack.

At least Spock hadn’t shoved the cat in as well in his attempts to eradicate all things Jim Kirk.

And then the little ship Spock had strapped Jim to landed. Well, it would be more accurate to say it crashed. The little console that pleaded with him gave it up and succumbed to flames, and Jim shakily decided it would be a good idea to abandon his little prison and seek new shelter.

What greeted him outside the escape pod ten minutes later was a world that made Scotty’s place in Alaska seem downright tropical. Jim groaned. He shook his fist at the sky. 

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE JUST BEAMED ME SOMEWHERE _WARM_?!” he shouted, alerting at least three predators of his whereabouts.

The first predator prowled out from behind a snowdrift as Jim started south, wrapped up in the cold weather clothing Spock had at least left him with. He hoped he would run into the Bahamas. Stranger things had happened in his life. If he was lucky, they would serve him a nice hot cup of coffee.

The second predator saw the first predator and stalked after _him_.

The third predator, seeing the first and the second, decided to leave well enough alone and went back to her den to have a nap.

“He has all the technology in the universe to beam me to a nice party planet or something, but no, he decides to strap me into an escape pod, of all things, and shoot me off into this hellhole of a ice rock,” Jim ranted to himself, catching himself from a slip. It was so stupidly cold that he didn’t even need to bother with snow shoes, since the snow had frozen into ice.

There was the sound of something scraping behind him, making Jim pause. All of the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Slowly, he turned around. He looked up. Something that looked an awful lot like a bear and a wolf mixed with a sabertooth tiger reared up, lips pulling back to show really wicked fangs. Jim stepped back.

“Let’s be reasonable,” he said. The predator lunged towards him. Jim scrambled away, almost losing an arm in the process. Okay. Not so reasonable.

Why does this kind of shit always happen to me? he thought.

It can’t get much worse than this, he thought.

Then, as he was slipping and sliding away at top speed, the furry creature got swatted away by something very large, very red, and had a toothy starfish for a face.

Oh, thought Jim, yes it can.

So this is it. He had managed to escape the destruction of his home planet, off the ship the madman used to destroy said planet, and a bottle of what Bones referred to as ‘brandy’ but went to his liver like paint thinner. Now, he was going to be eaten by a bug. If he was a lesser man, he might have just laid down and called it a day. Since he was a Jim Kirk, he ran into a cave.

Because he lived Jim Kirk’s life, the cave was a dead end. Jim turned around. The monster snapped closed its tentacly mouth, as if to demonstrate what it would do to Jim when it got its claws into him.

“DAMN YOU, SPOCK!” Jim shouted in the monster’s face, just as a burst of fire wooshed into the monster’s face.

A ancient man nimbly leaped at the monster, waving around his torch. Since the beast had never encountered fire before, and was finding it didn’t like the feeling of it against its skin, it scrambled back and then slunk out of the cave, tail between its legs.

Jim stared at the man. The man, frowning a little, looked back.

“I was about to ask how you always managed to find me, James Kirk, before you cursed my name.”

“I don’t know who you - _Spock_?!” This sudden realization came when Jim finally noticed the pointed ears and the soft, familiar brown eyes. The old man smiled slightly, which absolutely blew Jim away.

“Jim. It is my utmost pleasure to see you again.”

Jim gaped at him.

The small smile grew a little. “I see now I spoke in error. Although you did find me, it was clearly not your intention.”

“I would have, though,” Jim insisted. “If I knew you were here.”

If possible, the old man’s eyes softened more. “I do not doubt that. Come now, we must discuss matters.”

Spock - his Spock, that is - had been holding out on him. Instead of a lengthy explanation like one that might end a Sherlock Holmes novel, the old Spock simply grabbed his face and dumped the whole sad story into Jim’s head, then, with permission, pulled out Jim’s own sad story. When they separated, both were badly shaken.

“Emotional transference,” said Spock, as if speaking to himself, “can be an unfortunate side effect.”

“I’m sorry,” Jim said, and they both lapsed into silence to digest the new information.

So. The madman was actually a time traveling guy named Nero who went crazy with grief over the unfortunate, but accidental, loss of his planet and pregnant wife.

He sighed. What was one more item to add to his comprehensive list on why he believed the universe had a beef with him?

Jim’s list went something like this:

FACT #1: The man he had secretly crushed on all those years he pretended like he was completely straight is actually not entirely human.

POINT: The woman he’d tried to get off with three years ago is clearly lusting after the alien he has designs on.

POINT: Said alien seems to return this interest. Or, at least, certainly _didn’t_ return Jim’s interest, as demonstrated by the next point.

POINT: Said alien has abandoned him on an alien ice planet because he regrets rescuing Jim from Earth. NOTE: This is the first time Jim has been on any planet besides Earth.

POINT: Said alien’s counterpart from the future believes they are BFFs. Which, okay, they had been for going on six years, but that _clearly_ doesn’t apply now.

FACT #2: Giant insectoid.

FACT #3: The Earth is gone. (Still too big to comprehend).

POINT: The crazy dude from the future in the flying squid blames it on Jim and Spock, even though the unfortunate end to Romulus happened in a completely different universe. Now he is now going after Vulcan.

POINT: Google is gone.

Jim was a strong, brave man. Although life had been full of hardships, he processed them all and moved on with the tenacity of a street dog. But the universe, probably fed up with Jim’s resilience, finally decided to take absolutely everything away. 

Jim burst into tears, startling the old Spock into raising both his eyebrows.

“You are emotionally compromised.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jim blubbered.

A hand gently touched his shoulder, then grasped it firmly. “I grieve with thee.”

Those words stabbed Jim straight through the chest. He buried his face in his gloved hands.

Jim took five minutes to pull himself together, wiping at his nose with the back of his glove. He heaved a large sigh, then smiled, a little embarrassed, at a concerned looking Spock.

“Well! Nothing to do now but pull myself back up, right?” Jim said, with false cheeriness. As if emphasize his point, he stood up again.

“Now I just need to - ” he stuttered to a halt, looking lost. He didn’t know what he was going to do now. Like most humans, Jim had never been on another planet, but unlike the few humans who _had_ , he had no idea how to get back off one.

“There is a Starfleet base approximately fourteen kilometers from here. They will have a transporter that we can use to beam you back onto the Enterprise,” said Spock, sympathetically.

Jim looked up, eyes sparking familiarly with an idea, and Spock found himself inclined to smile a little resignedly. Although these eyes were a different color, Spock knew that look. It meant that Jim was going to do something harrowing and without concern for his own life.

“I have a better idea.” 

*

“No.”

Jim ignored Spock, digging through his backpack. He took out two canteens, a bag of water purifiers and three rolls of clean clothing until he found his handgun. He tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. A strange little spiky faced green thing watched them curiously, sitting on top of the transporter’s controls.

“The risk is too great,” Spock said.

“No it isn’t,” said Jim. He shoved the rest of the supplies into the bag and handed it to Spock. Spock looked down at it.

“Thank you,” Jim said sincerely, momentarily grasping the Vulcan’s shoulders. 

“Jim - ”

“You saved me once when my planet was destroyed. You saved me again when I almost got eaten by a giant insect. The least I could do for you is save your planet. Don’t try to stop me, Spock, because I’m going to do it even if you knock me out and send me off to a different planet.”

Spock suddenly looked very tired, and very old. He knew Jim’s words to be truth. “As you will, Jim,” he said, and then, clutching the earthquake pack as if it were Jim himself, beamed his dearest friend onto the _Narada_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys, only two more chapters to go! I hope to get them out before the end of next week, since after that I'm going to be way too busy to even think for awhile. Both chapters are halfway written, so I don't think it's an unreasonable goal.
> 
> I hope you are enjoying!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jim is one lucky bastard.

Jim materialized on the bridge of the _Narada_.

This was a problem, because he was supposed to materialize in the cargo bay. 

I’ll just sneakily destroy the ship, he had thought.

I’ll leave the ship just as sneakily, he had thought.

“Again?!” he squawked.

This startled the mess of Romulans on the bridge, who had not anticipated the appearance of this unruly human. Had they known he would be dropping by, they would have graciously brought out the killing devices. As it was, they would just have to make do with their hands.

Jim got a glimpse of a tense Spock on the view screen before Nero leaped from his seat, grabbing the nasty looking gun from the console. Unlike his crew, Nero always had his killing devices on hand.

Jim pulled out his own gun and fired.

*

While Jim was beaming onto the _Narada_ and shooting Romulans, Spock stood stiffly in front of the viewscreen on the bridge of the _Enterprise_. He had worked with Scotty to get the _Enterprise_ to maximum warp, in spite of the severe risk it posed to the ship. Calculations, probabilities, outliers and estimations zipped around in his mind, all leading to a similar conclusion: They were not going to make it in time. Vulcan would suffer the same fate as Earth. His mother and father, with whom he had just only reunited, would die.

_”...are you really prepared to take responsibility for the destruction of your entire goddamn planet? Because, trust me, it fucking sucks.”_

“Entering Eridani’s system,” said Chekov, interrupting the bleak direction Spock’s thoughts were headed.

“We will reconvene with Starfleet behind Delta Vega,” said Spock, although they already knew the plan. Follow Narada. Hide in Delta Vega’s magnetic field. Launch a joint attack against the _Narada_.

Spock was conscious of a feeling of dread somewhere deep in the illogical part of his mind. Logically, he understood this was the most reasonable tactic. And yet -

“Spock,” said Uhura from her station. “We’re being hailed.”

“On screen.”

The face of an unfamiliar Romulan filled the screen. For a long moment, he said nothing, just stared hard at Spock.

“S’chn T’gai Spock,” said the voice of the man who had destroyed Earth. “I would hate for you to waste your efforts, so I only thought it was fair to advise you not to bother with Delta Vega.” He leaned forward, conspiratorially. “They’re all dead.”

“No,” whispered Gaila, covering her mouth with both hands.

“We have waited for you specifically so you can bear witness to the destruction of your planet, as we have done ours, but I see that you have fled like the coward you are. I have - ”

Whatever Nero had would never be known, as someone off screen shouted, “Again?!” which spurred Nero to leap from his seat. There was a startlingly loud report and Nero dropped like a rock. A moment later, a pair of eyes that were familiarly, startlingly blue grinned back at them.

“Hi guys!” Jim said, cheerfully. “Am I doing this right? I just need to speak and you guys can hear me, right? Boy, what I would do to get my hands on some of this technology!”

“Jim?! How did you get onto the ship?”

Jim had many words he had to say to Spock. Some of them were explanations. Instead, he waved his finger at him and said, accusingly, “Giant space insect!”

“I am not,” protested Spock.

“No, I mean - ” Jim made to elaborate, then decided against it. “Never mind. No need to worry.” As if to belie his words, he spun away from the screen. “Stay back! This gun is locked on every single one of you, and if you take one step it’ll kill you all.”

Jim was only holding a handgun, which, while effective close up, most certainly could not lock on to multiple targets. No one on the bridge was about to correct him, though. Well, Spock opened his mouth, but Uhura stepped on his foot.

“Toss me your weapons.” There was a beat of silence, and Jim followed it up with, in a voice not even Bones had heard, “ _NOW_!”

“All right,” Jim said, brightly. “Now I just need to destroy the red matter. But first, gotta get away from Vulcan, yeah? - let’s see, what’s the one that Sulu pressed earlier - ” He reached forwarded, eyes turned down towards the panel of buttons. “Oh, here we go - ”

The image cut out.

“Nyota!” Spock barked.

“Trying to re-establish connection--”

“They’re going into warp!” Chekov yelped.

“How the hell did Jim manage that?” asked Sulu, mostly to himself. It had taken him a full day to figure out the _Enterprise’s_ controls, and Jim had just looked at the controls and sent that massive ship into warp. The guy was just full of surprises.

“ _Follow them_!”

“Yes, sir.”

Spock leaped from the command chair and raced to the transporter room, heart pounding in his side with several emotions he was not about to name. Of all the irritating, illogical, absurd human things to do - he stumbled slightly as they abruptly dropped out of warp, but didn’t slow down until he burst into the transporter room.

“Mr. Scott. Lock onto Jim’s location.”

“Aye.” Scotty turned to the controls, tapping quickly on the console. Although Scotty had only roughly a day and a half days to familiarize himself with the transporter’s controls, he was, after all, a genius. Transporting a single organic entity should be nothing. Except - With each panel and button he jabbed, a small furrow grew deeper and deeper between his eyebrows.

“Ah, Spock. I can’t seem to find him.”

Spock was conscious of gritting his teeth. He relaxed his jaw. “Clarify.”

“I don’t think he has a communicator on him,” said Scotty, distressed. “If he can get a hold of one, or get to a transporter pad - ”

The statistical likelihood that Jim could get a communicator or to a transporter was eighty-nine point two percent. The statistical likelihood that he _would_ was a completely different ballpark, as humans would say.

Illogical, self-destructive, headstrong _human_ \- 

“Beam me on board the _Narada_.”

“But - ”

“This is not up for discussion.” 

“All right, Spock,” said Scotty, a little uncertainly as Spock stepped onto the transporter.

“Proceed after the _Narada_. I confess to have no idea what Jim’s plan is, but I can assure you he will need our assistance.”

“You’re the captain,” said Scotty.

The influence of this title was clearly lost to this crew of misfits, but Spock nodded. “Energize,” he commanded.

*

Jim was just hanging around. This was because a furious Romulan held him up by his neck about a foot off the ground.

“For someone who has caused so many problems, you are really quite weak,” observed the Romulan. When he saw that Jim was trying to speak, he loosened his grip marginally.

“Have some humanity!” Jim gurgled.

“Romulanity,” said the Romulan, insulted.

“I’m human, so it’s humanity I’m concerned with right now!” said Jim, and then shot the Romulan in the stomach. The Romulan’s eyes narrowed as he dropped Jim, collapsing backwards and into the depths of the _Narada_. Jim just barely managed not to follow him, scrambling back to his feet. Other Romulans were racing towards the bridge now, so Jim thought it prudent to get moving. 

He slammed into five different rooms (startling one Romulan badly while simultaneously learning that bathrooms were universal) before he found the one room he was so desperately looking for.

Before him, encased within a smaller glass room, was what appeared to be a large, hovering red ball of liquid. It glistened. It shone. It looked far too innocent to do what it was best at doing.

_"Release the red matter!”_

_"We built a ship containing a material...powerful enough to destroy a supernova."_

“A black hole,” said Jim, leveling his handgun at the red ball. “Bingo.”

He fired. The bullet pinged off the glass. Even at his distance, he could see a small crack. So. Not bulletproof. He wasn’t entirely surprised, since it seemed like people from the future preferred the types of guns that shot lasers, of all things. He cocked his gun. Seven more bullets. He fired. The second bullet cracked into where the first bullet hit. A spiderweb broke apart across the glass.

Jim took a deep breath. “The statistical likelihood that I will escape the _Narada_ once the red matter is ignited,” he said, running some quick numbers, “is infinitesimal.”

Well, this is really it, this time, he thought, and fired the gun one more time. 

The glass trembled as the red matter, exposed to to the elements seeping through the cracks, gleefully collapsed in on itself. Jim watched in awe. He was going to see a black hole created. Granted, it would be the last thing he’d ever see, but what the hell. All in all, not a terrible way to go. The equipment trembled and drew inwards towards the shrinking red ball. A long, eerie groan started up above his head and shuddered through the body of the ship. Jim himself stumbled forward, irresistibly pulled towards his end.

One hundred and twenty-nine years in the future, an old Vulcan attempted to make the ultimate sacrifice to save a galaxy. It looked like Jim would be fulfilling his venture. Overall, not a terrible trade.

“So long, Spock,” he muttered.

Spock materialized in front of him.

“Jesus!” Jim yelped, stumbling back a step even as he slid forward. This new habit where Spock appeared just in time to save the day whenever Jim was saying his last goodbyes was bad for his blood pressure.

“Incorrect,” Spock snapped, grabbing Jim’s arm roughly while simultaneously bringing up his communicator. “Mr. Scott, two to beam up. _Now_.” 

The glass shattered and fell like rain into the red matter as it completely compressed itself into one single dot of light. The _Narada_ shrieked in protest as a shuddering crack tore its way through her hull. Equipment ripped itself from the walls and flew towards the singularity as two figures faded away.

Scotty heaved a sigh of relief as Spock and Jim materialized on the transporter. He didn’t actually think Spock would find him in time, but that Jim was one lucky bastard.

“Illogical, irresponsible, thoughtless - ” Spock ranted.

“Hey - !” Jim protested. That was just going too far. Hadn’t he just saved Spock’s planet? That was pretty damn thoughtful, if you asked Jim.

“ - self-destructive, irrational - ”

“Irrational and illogical essentially mean the same thing,” Jim sniffed.

“ - _human_!”

Jim didn’t put forth any argument, since none of those adjectives were essentially incorrect. In an uncharacteristic display of annoyance, Spock actually flung his hands to the air and stomped off in a huff.

Jim looked at Scotty. Scotty looked at Jim.

“I think that went well,” said Jim. Scotty laughed, nearly hysterical with relief.

*

"I still can’t figure out how these xenophobic hobgoblins managed to head something as inclusive as Starfleet," Bones grumbled.

Jim pulled at the collar of his shirt, feeling incredibly underdressed in an the auditorium filled with aliens, who were all very interested in the ragged group of Earth’s last survivors that had somehow managed to save not just an entire world, but potentially the whole galaxy. 

So far, Jim had been on two alien planets. One was cold enough to freeze the blood in his veins. Vulcan, it turned out, was so hot that Jim was concerned he might evaporate.

“What about Gaila?” Bones asked switching topics so fast that Jim thought he might get whiplash.

“Gaila?” said Jim, blankly.

“You know,” said Bones. “Red hair. Green eyes.”

“Green skin,” Sulu offered, when Jim still looked puzzled.

“Oh, _that_ Gaila,” said Jim.

Bones waited. Jim said nothing. Bones sighed and wondered why he bothered. Of _course_ Jim had already done something.

“Quiet,” Uhura hushed, as an old Vulcan went to the podium.

Podiums, thought Jim with a pang. Earth had podiums, too.

“Who is that?” Scotty whispered to Spock.

“T’Pau was a Commander at Starfleet Academy before I departed Vulcan,” said Spock. “It appears that she has risen to Commander in chief since then.”

“So she’s the big cheese,” said Bones.

Spock frowned. Before he could protest that she was not, in any way, shape or form, a type of food, or even particularly that large, she spoke.

"James Tiberius Kirk, the people of Vulcan owe you a debt of gratitude. If you wish for something we have the power to give, ask now."

"The _Enterprise_ ," said Jim, promptly. He jumped a little when his voice boomed across the auditorium, having not expected his voice to be amplified, but rallied quickly. "And immunity for the Orion cadet, Gaila.”

“I have a feeling even if we didn’t grant your second request, we would be unable to find her to exact justice,” said T’Pau, dryly. Jim smiled earnestly. “Grant us some time to consider your request, as it is a large one.”

“Take all the time you need,” said Jim, the image of graciousness. It hardly mattered what they decided, anyway. When Jim left Vulcan, he would be leaving on the _Enterprise_. He just thought it would be polite to grant them the opportunity to part with the ship willingly.

There was a dinner to follow the presentation, but Jim snuck off, although he was a Very Important Person. He did not explore, although he was very curious about Spock’s home planet. Instead, he made his way back to the room Starfleet had given to him and collapsed into his bed.

“Hello, Jim.”

Jim leaped out of his bed again, as if shot, and made eye contact with, of all things, a human. She smiled warmly at him, skinny lines creasing the corners of her eyes.

“I am Amanda,” she said. “You are friends with my son, Spock.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Jim, gears clicking in place. He had gotten so used to thinking of Spock as ‘not human,’ that he completely forgot that he was only _half_ not human.

He stood up and held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Amanda.”

Amanda’s smile grew. “Just Amanda, if you will.” She tentatively reached out to very briefly clasp his hand. “It’s been so long since I have been around humans,” she said, almost wistfully. Her eyes, replicas of Spock’s, grew sad. “I was devastated to hear about Earth. Although I have no regrets leaving, it was once my home, too.”

Jim smiled. That was the same story he had heard from all of the other humans who managed to survive. _I have no regrets leaving, but..._

“I wanted to thank you.”

Jim shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. Being thanked by an emotionless lot of Vulcans was one thing. Being thanked by a human, who was also Spock’s mother - “Don’t mention it. I’m sure if you could, you would have saved Earth.”

“Although I’m extremely grateful you saved Vulcan,” said Amanda, wryly, “that’s not what I’m thanking your for.”

“Oh,” said Jim, lost but trying not to show it.

“Spock told me about his time on Earth. It was immediately clear that if he hadn’t found a friend in you, things would have been - difficult.”

Now Jim really was embarrassed. In all of his life, he had never been thanked for being someone’s friend by their _mother_. Inwardly, he flinched. All mothers seemed to have a knack for humiliating their sons, even if their son was a Vulcan.

“He didn’t have many friends growing up,” said Amanda, furthering Jim’s secondhand embarrassment. “He was bullied a lot.”

“Oh god,” Jim said, burying his face in his hands. 

“He cares for you deeply,” said Amanda, and she sounded _tickled_ , as if she knew exactly what Jim was thinking. She briefly touched his shoulder.

“You’re a good boy,” said Amanda. Jim made a strangled sound.

“Are you sure you don’t have any naked baby pictures to bring out or something?” Jim asked, squirming a little.

Amanda broke out into peals of laughter, surprising even herself. It had been a long time since she laughed, and she was somewhat shocked at the sheer relief she felt in doing so. Jim peered up at her from his hands, lips twitching a little.

“I definitely like you,” said Amanda, wiping at the corners of her eyes. She patted his shoulder one more time. “I know you wish to be alone, but please get something to eat soon. I just stopped by to let you know that you are always welcome in the house of Sarek. I would be honored if you came to visit.”

“I will,” Jim promised.

“I’m so glad Spock has you for a friend,” said Amanda in parting and left, leaving Jim alone again. His smile faltered.

“Friend,” he repeated to the empty room, and felt very lonely.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the story ends.

_Don’t know if it worked. If it’s any consolation I’ll probably be an outlaw too_

_wow-ee jim. you gonna steal the enterprise?_

_maybe. Don’t come out yet. I’ll let you know when it’s safe._

Jim closed the encrypted channel he and Gaila had set up on his pad, sitting heavily in the command chair on the empty bridge. Sleeping in the dorm Starfleet had assigned to him was impossible. He kept waking up, convinced that someone would tow the _Enterprise_ away and then let him know the deal was off. He doubted that he would be able to rest easy until they were out there again. Strange, really, how things can change.

The cat hopped up onto Jim’s lap, rolling onto its back to expose its white underbelly. Jim scratched the soft fur distractedly.

“Jim.”

Jim looked over his shoulder. He had not expected anyone to appear for at least another hour or so. Standing at the entrance of the bridge was the person he had _least_ expected to see.

“Spock.”

“You were not in your assigned room.”

“Yeah. Gotta get things ready for when we leave.”

“You refer to Gaila’s crew.”

Jim shrugged a little. His mug of coffee was still sitting on the console. Maybe he ought to pick up someone who would pick up after them. “Scotty’s a shoe in for sure - he’s actually down in Engineering right now. I know Bones is in. I figure the others will follow if they want to, though we were all offered admission to Starfleet. I sent them all messages twenty or so minutes ago, so I guess they'll let me know if they're coming or not within the hour.”

“I received no such correspondence.”

Jim turned away from Spock. Just what was he supposed to say to that?

“I see,” said Spock.

In the past several days, Jim experienced the destruction of his own planet, killed a man and his crew, and saved an alien planet. He learned that there was more out there than just Earth, that aliens did in fact exist, and had slept and bathed on a flying saucer (though it wasn’t shaped like a dish with the same name). He’d step foot on not just one, but _two_ alien planets, when just last week he was sprawled on his couch watching Sunday morning cartoons and eating cereal out of a chipped bowl. He didn’t really know what to think anymore.

“You are leaving soon. You are not interested in attending Starfleet Academy?”

“Not right now. I have - a lot I need to sort through, first. I messaged one of the counselors; their offer doesn’t expire. Maybe I’ll come back in a year or two. I’d have to discuss it with the others.”

“What will you do now?”

“I think I’m going to write a Guide. About the universe.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “You would not focus on just the galaxy?”

“Why limit myself?” Jim shrugged. “Maybe I’ll do a series.”

“I see.”

“Hoping to leave in an hour or so,” Jim said, picking up a pad and flicking through several screens to give himself something to do with his hands. Spock didn’t immediately respond. Jim looked up from the pad and was a little surprised at how completely blank Spock’s face was. Usually, he could pick up on some thoughts, but now Spock was - Spock was a stranger.

“I had not anticipated such an abrupt departure,” said Spock.

Jim shrugged. “Yeah. I think they’re gonna want the _Enterprise_ back, so it’d be best to hightail it.”

“Although the expression is unfamiliar to me, I can infer from our topic that you mean ‘to flee quickly’. You intend to steal the _Enterprise_?”

Fish belong in the sea, until they crawl out. Birds belong in the sky, until they land. Jim Kirk belonged on the _Enterprise_ , full stop. Jim didn’t think Spock would understand, so he didn’t bother explaining.

“That about sums it up, yeah. Well.” Jim set the pad and the cat to the side and stood up from the command chair. He held out his hand. “I guess this is goodbye.”

Spock looked at the hand with a small flicker of something that looked an awful lot like distaste, which caused Jim to clench his hand shut and drop it to his side. So. Still not friends, then.

“I fail to see why we need to say our farewells.”

“Jesus, Spock,” Jim said, stung. “You once told me you hold me in high esteem. I thought that meant we were friends, once.”

“It’s my understanding that we still are.”

Jim boggled at him. “Um, no. I think I can pretty safely say we’re no longer friends.”

For a moment, there was something so large and painful on Spock’s face that Jim’s resolve cracked right in half. Then his face was again all smooth panes. “I see. If that is the case - ” 

Spock held out his hand. It was Jim’s turn to look at it with distaste.

“Let’s step back a bit,” said Jim, frustrated. He had a distinct feeling that he and Spock were having two separate conversations. “You still think I’m your friend.”

“Although you may no longer consider me your friend, you are, and forever will be, mine.”

The ambiguity and possessiveness of Spock’s claim made something somersault in Jim’s chest. He squashed it. 

“Um,” said Jim, looking down at his hands. He tried for an easy smile, but it fell flat. “Okay.”

“While ‘okay,’ by definition, means to agree, I have found that humans often employ it when they mean otherwise,” said Spock, and this time Jim could hear a thread of tension in his voice.

Jim sighed. His usual defense mechanism of prevaricating seemed petty, and try as he might, he couldn’t just let everything go. So Jim, with his infinite capacity for bravery, laid all of his cards on the table. What did he have to lose now, anyway? Spock had a home here on Vulcan. Chances were Jim would never see him again. The galaxy was a pretty big place.

“I love you, Spock,” Jim said, staring straight into Spock’s eyes. Spock recoiled back a step, as if Jim struck him. “I loved you when you came into my bar and asked me for chocolate milk. I loved you when you told me you were actually an alien. I still love you, even after all this. But I kinda hate you right now, too.”

Spock looked - Spock looked _thunderstruck_. Jim would have been amused if he wasn’t still so angry and hurt.

“I love you, and you used my father against me, then sent me to a planet where I was nearly killed, right after my planet was destroyed. All because you didn’t trust me. I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but, _god_ , Spock. I have lost _everything,_ and then I lost you.”

Jim exhaled after his little rant, glad to have got that all of his chest. Spock’s eyes were huge, but he still said nothing. Jim gave him several long, silent minutes. Nothing. He sighed. Well, at least he got to say his piece.

“So this is goodbye, then. You’re going back to Vulcan and - “

“ _How can you say all that_ ,” Spock hissed, grabbing Jim’s shoulders so roughly that he was propelled back several steps. There was something wild in Spock’s eyes, inhuman and primal, “ _and expect me to leave_?”

“Oh,” said Jim, and then Spock kissed him.

It was too hard, too urgent and too afraid. Spock kissed like a man who had not seen water for days, and Jim was completely consumed. He pulled back much too quickly in Jim’s opinion, pressing his forehead against Jim’s. Jim grabbed at him for a moment, trying to encourage him to get back to this kissing business, but Spock spoke:

“In the past four days, I have committed so many transgressions against you that I cannot hope for your immediate forgiveness. I ask that you not take away my only opportunity to seek it.”

Jim swallowed thickly. He had never been one to hold grudges and already halfway to completely forgiving Spock. This did not mean he trusted him. “What about Vulcan?”

“Twelve years ago I left Vulcan to find a place where, as you humans so aptly put it, I would ‘fit in.’ Six years later I found you. Since then there has been no one but you. Do not make me leave.”

Jim was absolutely speechless. He knew he didn’t look his best, eyes popping, jaw unhinged, but he couldn’t get his brain to start up again.

“Jim,” said Spock, urgently.

“Your mother visited me,” said Jim. Spock actually blinked at him. “She said that I was ‘always welcome in the house of Sarek,’ Sarek being your dad, I guess. What I mean to say is - we can always come back to visit.”

Jim would have never noticed the very, very small breath Spock released had he not been pressed up against him.

“I like your mom,” said Jim, conversationally.

“I too am very fond of her, but I understand that it is customary to not discuss one’s parents during physical relations,” said Spock, eyebrows turned very slightly down, and for the first time in days, Jim laughed.

* 

"I guess this means I lost," Nyota grumbled, watching Spock watch Jim. Jim caught him once, but looked away quickly, the tips of his ears pink. Something had so obviously changed between them. The quiet tension fueled by Jim’s anger had dissipated in the time between departing and returning to an _Enterprise_ commanded by Jim, leaving behind a strange sort of uncertainty. It was a lot like watching two predators circling each other, interested, but tentative, half sure that it was bound to end in bloodshed.

"Lost what?" Bones - _McCoy_ , damnit Jim - asked.

"Just a little rivalry between Jim and me," Nyota admitted. "For Spock's affections."

Bones scoffed in disbelief. "What is it with you all and tall, dark, and pointy? Sorry darlin', but I don't think you were ever in the running." 

"Yeah," Nyota sighed. "I'm starting to get that." Then she stepped on Bones' foot, making him yelp. "Don't call me darlin'."

"Harpy!" Bones howled.

“Try not to kill each other before we even take off,” said Jim, like a long-suffering parent. Nyota promptly decided to kill him instead. Jim grinned at her, knowing exactly what she was plotting.

“Where to next?” Chekov asked.

“I figured we could go where the wind takes us,” said Jim.

“Outer space is a hard vacuum. Waiting for the type of wind you refer to to ‘take us’ anywhere would be futile, as there is no such wind,” said Spock.

Jim positively beamed at him, giddy with the sense of new adventure in his bones. They had all came back to him. Every single one of them, even the brainy Chekov who would clearly excel at Starfleet Academy. Gaila was safe and cheerily harassing Scotty in Engineering. For the first time, even though Earth was gone, Jim really, truly found a place where belonged.

“Space is infinite and has infinite possibilities. I bet you we could find a breeze if we looked hard enough.” He said, grinning all over his face, and dropped into the command chair. He slouched down in it like the disreputable human he would always be. “Sulu, take us out.”

“Aye, Captain!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so very, very much for taking the time to read this. _Jim Kirk's Guide to the Universe_ has been a real treat to write, and I hope you enjoyed! All kudos and feedback hugely appreciated!


End file.
